The Writer's Characters
by JokertheMatrix
Summary: Human AU. One-shot. "It's the writers who decide the world, but it's the characters who decide the story."


_Another story uploaded on Valentine's Day that has nothing to do with Valentine's Day at all… Brilliant. You know, plot bunnies are vicious creatures once they finish hibernating. Anyways, this story is inspired by "Monarchy of Spades", a doujin that you really should read (and by the same artist but different writer, "Rockets" and its sequel "Rockets: Mouse Made". My feels exploded from that). Despite its source of inspiration, this has nothing to do with Cardverse. It is also somewhat inspired by "To the Moon", which I was watching an LP of while I was writing this. At any rate, happy Valentine's Day and I hope you enjoy!_

_P.S. I am not a botanist. medibot might be, but I am not. Oh, and what is the thing you call anachronism?_

**The things I reference here do not belong to me. Same goes for Hetalia and its characters.**

* * *

_I never regretted meeting you _

_Not once did I ever regret._

_If I could have a wish,_

_Then I'd wish…_

'''''''

People bustled in and out of the marketplace. All kinds of stands were lined against the small alleyways; there were stands that sold juicy fruit, stands that sold necessities, and stands that sold pretty trinkets. The houses behind the stands were simple rectangles, wooden doors loosely hinged to the wall, square windows open. The day was nice and warm, the sun shining brightly as puffy white clouds rolled across the sky.

Arthur walked through the crowds, his forest green cloak wrapped around him. Most teens his age would be escorted by their parents through such a busy place, but Arthur didn't have that luxury. The luxury he did have, however, was the freedom to wander around while his parents were busy working.

_Where should I go today? _ He thought to himself as he walked around. There was no school today, so he had no need to follow the routine he followed for most of the week. Normally boys like him would be hanging around places like the smithy or the wharf in their free time to learn more about the jobs they wanted to grow up as, but Arthur was different. He didn't want to grow up to be a merchant or a blacksmith or a fisherman. He wanted to be a writer. _I could always go there…_

Arthur walked past the crowds of people, stopping somewhere along the way to look at an apple stand. Apples weren't his particular favorite fruit, but he couldn't deny that these ones appeared delicious. One apple in particular appeared better than the others, all plump and juicy and red. He reached inside his pants and coat pockets.

"Shoot," he mumbled beneath his breath. "I left my money back at home." It was certainly a walk away from his house, and by the time he made it back, somebody might have bought the apple already. "Ah…"

"Do you want that apple?"

Arthur turned around to see a boy standing next to him. The boy was slightly taller than Arthur, his face round like that of a child's. He wore a blue vest over a white tunic and wore dark blue trousers over black shoes. His hair was as yellow as sand, although curiously enough, a little piece of hair stuck up from the right side of his head. Sky blue eyes stared into Arthur, patiently waiting for his answer.

"Oh no, I can't possibly ask that of you." Arthur avoided facing him, his face heating up slightly. If he asked this stranger to pay for the apple, then how would Arthur pay him back? After all, he didn't know where this stranger lived. Plus, it would be pretty embarrassing to ask someone that. "I wouldn't be able to find you again to pay you back, and really, I'm not even that hungry."

Naturally though, his stomach growled right after that moment.

The boy laughed as Arthur flushed. "It's all right, you don't have to worry about paying me back."

Before Arthur could complain, the boy walked towards the stand. He looked up at the merchant and pointed at the apple Arthur had been eyeing, purchasing the fruit effortlessly as the merchant nodded and gave the boy the fruit. The boy walked back towards Arthur, thrusting his hand out to show Arthur the fruit.

"See? No problem." He bent down to look at Arthur's face when the other didn't look up. "Hello?"

"I-I…" Arthur lifted his head, his face no doubt a crimson shade by now. "I-I… uhh… th-thank you, but you didn't really have to buy it for me!"

The boy paused for a second before cracking a smile. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't mind? Really…" He took Arthur's hand and placed the apple on it. "Just accept it as a gift, all right?"

Arthur looked at the perfect apple in his hands. He turned back at the boy. "I can't…"

The boy let out a small but amused sigh. "You really are a stubborn one, aren't you? Don't worry; you don't have to pay me ba-"

"There you are!" A woman rushed towards the boy, her skirt hiked up as she power-walked to him. "You shouldn't run off like that, it's dangerous here!"

"I know, I just wanted to-"

"At any rate, we should be heading back; we've stayed here long enough." The woman grabbed the boy's arm and tugged him away while the boy in question struggled to get out of her grip.

"W-wait, I have to…" He looked back at Arthur and yelled. "Alfred!" He called out. "My name is Alfred!"

"O-okay!" Arthur yelled back on instinct. "I'm Arthur!"

"Arthur? That's a pretty na-!"

They disappeared into the crowd before Alfred could finish his sentence.

_I wonder what the point of that was… _Arthur thought as he gazed at the spot where Alfred and that lady had disappeared. _This is a big town, so the chances of me meeting him again are very slim…_

He looked back at the apple in his hands. _What an odd fellow…_

''''''

The wind blew gently as Arthur sat under the tree, a book situated on his lap and a basket at his side. The soft grass was Arthur's cushion, the tree his shade. From here, Arthur could see the town and the castle at its edge. The castle was a white marble spectacle, spires and towers and the main building creating a structure that you'd find in many a fairy tale. Arthur would love to visit the castle one day to see its library, but there was no way a mere commoner like him would be granted that wish. Instead, he opted out to just watch the castle from a distance in the little hill at the outskirts of town.

_I wonder what happens next…? _Arthur thought, biting into an apple that he had packed into his lunch. It was a formality really, to guess what happened next in a story that he had read multiple times before. Despite knowing its contents, Arthur couldn't help but admire the string of events that led up to its ending, admiring all the little techniques the author had used to immerse the reader into their story. One day, Arthur hoped to do just that: write something that would immerse the reader into the story so much that it would seem as if the story was the reader's reality.

Arthur placed the apple down on his lap, a tiny bite mark on the apple's side. He paused before he resumed reading the book, staring at the apple as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. _I never did find him, huh…_

Two weeks had passed since Arthur had last seen the boy. 'Alfred', he had told Arthur to call him… And yet, Arthur had never found him in school or in town since. _A traveler, maybe? _He thought as he leaned back on the tree. _Perhaps the… _He shook his head. _No, this is reality. It can't be that._

He resumed reading his book. He didn't know how much time had passed, but suddenly he saw something coming in his peripheral vision. He looked up to see a figure hooded in a dark blue cloak walking up the hill. Normally the other would be threatening, but the size of the figure betrayed that the stranger was a teen. Nevertheless, Arthur stiffened.

_Can he see me? _He thought as he squinted his eyes to see who was coming up from the town. _More importantly, is he or she dangerous? Should I hide?_

Arthur didn't move as the stranger kept on walking. The stranger kept on walking until the other was right in front of him. The stranger looked back as if trying to find something before turning towards Arthur. The stranger froze.

"Hey, it's…!" Arthur watched the hooded figure lower down his hood. "Do you remember me, Artie?"

"Alfred?" Arthur placed his book down. "How did you…? Why are you…?" He flushed. "Don't call me Artie! My name's Arthur!"

"I knew I was a bit off…" Alfred sat down next to the basket. "I'll still call you Artie though. Arthur's too pretty a name for me to call casually."

Arthur reddened. "I-it's not…" Honestly, how could this boy embarrass him so easily? They've only met once before, and already it seemed like the boy knew him well enough to know what could make him blush. "Really, it's not… 'pretty' is too much… it really isn't…"

"You get embarrassed really easily, don't you?" Alfred chuckled as Arthur reddened even more. "And Arthur is a really pretty name! It seems perfect for someone like you!"

"Thank you, but really it's not..." Arthur crinkled his trousers. "Alfred is a much nicer name in my opinion."

"That's not true," Alfred pouted. "Arthur's a name fit for a king. On the other hand, Alfred means 'elf' or 'magic counsel'. That's not manly at all!"

"It has a nice meaning..." Alfred looked at him.

"Do you like those kinds of things? Elves and fairies and stuff?" Arthur shook his head furiously.

"Of course not, why would I…?" Arthur sighed. For some reason, he couldn't find the heart to lie to the other boy. "Yes, but I normally don't spread it around freely. It's not exactly something in a boy that people accept without making fun of."

"That's mean." Arthur saw Alfred lean back, the other's face turned towards the sky. "That's like making fun of people who like listening to the legends about heroes and such."

"Do you like heroes?"

Alfred nodded. "I like listening to stories with heroes in them. You can't help but admire how brave they are and how much they persevere." He gestured towards the book on Arthur's lap. "What are you reading?"

"Oh, this?" Arthur closed the book, folding the page to double as a makeshift bookmark. "It's a story about a mermaid who fell in love with a mortal prince after she saved him from near-drowning. She gave up her power of speech to a sea witch to become human so she could meet the prince, but there's a catch: she can never return to the sea and she will always feel pain upon walking in land, and if she doesn't get the prince to love her and marry her, then she will die and become sea foam."

"What happens? She succeeds and then it becomes a happy ending, right?"

"Not quite. The prince eventually marries another woman."

"What?!" Alfred sat up. "But then she dies!"

"Again, not quite. The mermaid's sisters bring her a knife from the sea witch and tell her that if she slays the prince and let his blood drip on her feet, then she can become a mermaid again and avoid death. However, the mermaid refuses to do so and ends up dissolving into foam, but instead of ceasing to exist, she becomes a spirit. The story ends with her trying to earn her soul through the good deeds of others, and if she succeeds, then she will ascend." Arthur chuckled. "This isn't the first time I've read the story, but I don't have that many books and I don't mind rereading the tale. It's a nice story, don't you think?"

"Why would you read a story with a bittersweet ending?" Alfred frowned. "If I had written the story, then I would have made it a lot happier and the mermaid would have been able to marry the prince."

Arthur smiled. "Now how would you pull that off? You'd have to change an awful lot of the story for that to happen."

"It doesn't matter as long as it's a happy ending."

"You can't always have a happy ending."

"I'd still try." Alfred stared at Arthur for a few seconds, the gears in his mind turning. "You said that you don't have a lot of books to read, right? Maybe I could let you read some of mine… you know, ones with _happy_ endings."

"Heh, that would be interesting, wouldn't it…" Arthur bit his lip again. "I'd love to accept, but I can't let you do that." He glanced towards the apple on his lap. "I still owe you for the apple after all."

Alfred sighed. "Are you still going on about that? I told you that it was fine already, but if you insist…"

He stood up and faced Arthur. "How 'bout we meet here every week on this day? That way, I can bring you books and then we could read together."

"But that's…" Arthur reluctantly nodded his head. "If that's how I'll repay you, then all right."

Alfred grinned. "That's good! Then we'll meet here in the morning then! If one of us can't make it for some reason, then we'll just stay here and wait until dusk comes. After that, then we can just go home and try again next week. How's that sound?"

"Okay, but…" Arthur faltered. "I know you don't like it when I say this, but I really do have to pay you back somehow. I mean, meeting here doesn't really reward you as much as it rewards me…"

"You and your need to repay everyone…" Still, Alfred smiled. "Don't worry, meeting here's rewarding for me. I get to be with you, don't I?"

"T-that…" Arthur blushed. "H-honestly, can you refrain from using that kind of language? That kind of thing… i-it can be easily misunderstood!"

"How?" Alfred tilted his head. "I like your company, that's all. So is it a deal?" He thrust his hand out for a handshake.

Arthur inspected at the hand. "D…deal." He hesitantly held the other's hand, who shook it firmly and heartily. "I'm afraid that I don't make for good company though…"

"Don't say that." Alfred crouched down in front of him. "I look forward to spending time with you. After all, we're friends now, right?"

"Friends already…?" Arthur tried to frown but couldn't help but smile. "Heh, I guess we are…"

''''''

They met every week on that hill on that day ever since. Not once did Alfred miss a day, and neither did Arthur. Some days they would just bring their books and read, neither of them speaking for the whole day with the exemption of standard greetings. Most days though, they would just sit there and talk, ignoring their books for the company of the other.

"Hey Artie," Alfred said one summer day. Arthur turned towards him, not bothering to correct the other. He had grown used to the nickname a long time ago.

"Yes Alfie?" Alfred became pleased at that. Arthur had called him that once in retaliation to the other's dogged use of 'Artie', but it had the reverse effect. Now Alfred insisted that Arthur call him that until the name finally stuck.

"If you could be anything, what would you be?" Arthur tilted his head.

"I never told you before?" Alfred shook his head. "Well, I've always wanted to be a writer."

"A writer? That makes sense…" Alfred set down his book in a way that Arthur knew what he was going to do next. Arthur placed his book away and changed his position so that he was kneeling. Alfred laid down on his lap, an informal gesture that Arthur had also eventually gotten used to.

"How come?" Alfred asked, looking up at Arthur. Arthur smiled.

"Stories are like other worlds. Writers are in charge of creating that world, its characters, and the events that would transpire." His voice took on a more dream-like tone. "Reading has always been like a door to me. Whenever I read, I feel like I was experiencing everything that was happening, like I really was one of the characters. It's always been a way for me to see the world since in the present reality, I can't. I want to be one of those people one day, one of the ones who can open up the doors to those who are closed in." Arthur coughed and then blushed. It wasn't often that he got to talk about his dream. "How about you?"

"That should be easy; a hero of course." Alfred turned the other way so that he faced the city. "Heroes make people happy, don't they? That's what I want to be: a person that can make people happy. More importantly though…" His voice became softer, something he didn't usually do. "I want to save people. That's another one of a hero's jobs, I think, saving the trapped. There are people out there that don't like the situation they're in, and I know that they would appreciate the help."

Silence followed afterwards. It wasn't easy, responding to something like that. Alfred, who was usually so upbeat and energetic, rarely ever showed his philosophical side. At those times, Arthur would wonder who the older one was: him or Alfred.

Arthur broke the silence after a while. "You really are wise Alfred. I truly envy that brain of yours." Alfred laughed.

"I'd rather be you Artie." He turned towards the other. "You're always so cool and composed, and yet you can be passionate and emotional too. Plus, you're smarter than me in a lot of things; me being like that is just you rubbing off on me."

"I hardly think that that's the case, but thank you nevertheless." Arthur glanced towards the distance. "Now that I think about it, how do you find the time to come here? I can hardly make an acceptable excuse as is."

"I sneak out. It took a while, but eventually my folks realized that nothing they could do would stop me from coming here, so now they just let me be." Arthur looked at him in shock.

"That's too reckless of you Alfred! You shouldn't do something like that just to meet with me!" Alfred scowled.

"Why not? I spend more than enough time doing what they want me to do. I just want to relax sometimes, you know…" Alfred's eyebrows creased as he looked worriedly at Arthur. "Please don't try to stop me from coming here. I already get enough of that from my brother. Please, don't take this away from me. Anything but this."

Arthur bit his lip. The way Alfred was looking at him… to deny him would be like breaking a bird's wings. "All right, but promise me that you won't do anything as irresponsible as that anymore."

Alfred beamed. "No promises Artie; I have my whole life ahead of me, and I need to take some risks sometime."

"For my sake, please don't." Arthur tilted his head. "You mentioned having a brother? I didn't know that. And here I assumed that you were an only child…" Alfred chuckled.

"Only one though, unlike you. His name's Matthew and he's my younger brother. He's younger than me only by a year though, and you can hardly tell the difference between us." Alfred kept on talking, but he sounded more distracted now. "He's a lot like you actually."

"Really? How so?"

"Well, you're both rather proper and you both act much older than me, although you're probably older than me in the first place. You both like to read and you're both easily embarrassed, and that's only scratching at the surface. I'm sure that if you met him, you two would get along."

"Is that how you think of me?" Arthur let out a small laugh. "Nonetheless, you should bring him here someday. I'd like to meet him and see if your assumptions are correct." Arthur pouted.

"I doubt that would happen. He spends most of his time studying, and I don't like to share." Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm not an object you know."

"I know, but you're someone I'd rather keep to myself." Arthur blushed.

"Haven't I told you before to stop talking like that? If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were a couple. I mean," he gestured to Alfred. "You're on my lap and we call each other nicknames; we might as well be an old married couple."

"I'm sure you'd make a wonderful wife." Arthur scowled as Alfred laughed.

"Now why would I be the female of the relationship? What makes you the male?" Alfred shrugged.

"You're a lot more like a caretaker than me. That's a wife-like quality, isn't it?" Alfred sat up. "I'm hungry," he announced. "Got any of those apples in that basket of yours?"

"Lucky for you, I do." Arthur reached for the basket on his side. He took out the piece of fruit from the basket. "Here you go. Say 'aah'." Arthur wouldn't have dared do this to anyone else, but somehow, Alfred had managed to talk him into feeding him as well. Really, there was no limit as to the things Alfred could talk Arthur into doing. He had that natural persuasion in his voice, one that was perfect for bargaining.

Alfred opened his mouth as Arthur fed him, chomping off a huge piece of the fruit. "See?" He said after he finished chewing. "Wife material right there."

"Alfred…" Arthur sighed. "You are ridiculous." The other beamed yet again.

"I know. But…" he suddenly became serious. "I wouldn't mind it if we were like that. I wouldn't mind that at all."

They spent their days like that, meeting once a week at that hill. Spring, summer, fall, and even winter they would meet on top of that hill. Their days were carefree and peaceful, as if they were in their own personal little bubble. Arthur would always come up there with food and maybe a book from his collection, while Alfred would come running up with a book or two in his hands. The conversations they had ranged from deep to silly, the kind you'd share with a close friend.

Those days soon stretched onto weeks and then months until it finally became two years. The boys were now fifteen, the age where the future suddenly seemed closer and you started feeling smaller as if you just realized that soon you'd have to start making the big decisions in life. Neither boys felt that way when they turned fifteen; if anything, it only seemed to be an extension of their past selves as their lives continued on in this happy little routine.

Then it all changed.

''''''

People never knew each other by their name, only by their title. If you were a blacksmith, you would be known as the "smithy in the corner of town over there". If you were a fisherman, you'd be known as the "fisherman who often fishes at the farthest port over there". If you were a merchant, you would be known as the "merchant who sold apples over there." They had names, sure, but to the masses they were nothing but where they were and what they did. That applied to everyone.

One day, it happened. One day, everything fell to pieces.

They were sitting under the tree, the sky slowly getting darker as dusk approached. It had been one of the days when they both had an unconscious agreement to just read and not talk. On that day, Arthur had been leaning on the tree while Alfred was resting his head on Arthur's shoulders.

"Artie." Arthur leaned his head on top of the other's, both teens placing their books away at the same time. Both had changed since they first met, both having grown. Alfred had become stockier as if he had been training for some invisible competition every day. His voice had become deeper yet was still fairly high-pitched, with the exception that he now sounded more commanding. As a result of reading at night, Alfred had to wear glasses on his face, but that did nothing but transform his childlike face into that of a man's. He had grown up to be a man in more ways than one, but he still remained the energetic child Arthur had met two years prior. When Alfred spoke to him now though, all traces of that child were gone.

"What is it?"

"If you could be anything in life, what would you be?" He didn't meet Arthur's eyes. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Alfie, we've had this conversation before. I want to be a writer and you want to be a hero. One day, we'll be just that." The other nuzzled into his neck.

"You know, don't you." It wasn't a question; it was a fact.

"Yes," Arthur replied, not skipping a beat. "I suspected so shortly after we met. It was the only possibility that made sense." Alfred chuckled.

"I knew you'd figure it out eventually. You're smart, you know." Alfred sat up and gazed out into the distance.

"I want to help people and I know I can with that position, but I'm trapped. While that future presents a golden opportunity for me to help everyone, it means that I have to sacrifice the things I want. Freedom, independence…" Alfred leaned back, his eyes glued on the horizon. "The day I first met you, I had actually been running away. I was so stupid back then, running away without any food or weapons on me. And where would I go?" He shook his head. "I'm glad that I ran into you that day instead of going through with what I had planned."

"So do I." Arthur followed his gaze, finding that it landed on the castle he had been admiring ever since he was little. "Alfred, you'll hate me for this, but you can't do anything to change what you'll become. As the oldest male, you had to be chosen as per tradition. At least what you'll become can coincide with what you want to become."

"That may be, but you remember why I want to be a hero, right?" Arthur nodded.

"To make others happy."

"And to save people from situations they don't want to be in." Alfred leaned back and bit into the apple he had been eating prior to their conversation. "I wish I could run away, but I can't. Not only because it's my responsibility to stay, but because I wish to be it as well. It's my life and I don't know how to live it any other way."

"That's good." Arthur turned to Alfred, although the other didn't meet his eyes. "Usually in stories, those kinds of people would reject their duties and make all sorts of trouble until they realize that it is who they are and what they want. I'm glad that you accepted your responsibilities Alfred, and the consequences that go along with it. Although…" He gently nudged the other. "You break some rules every now and then meeting with me. Don't you have lessons or such to be attending today? I'm not sure if it holds water in real life, but surely you must have to study a lot?"

"My parents cancelled all lessons for this day once they realized that I would keep coming here no matter what. They figured it was futile, you know." Alfred smiled, but it was a sad little smile. "What's your favorite part of a story Artie?" He asked suddenly. Arthur pondered the question for a few moments.

"The characters. Without them, you'd have nothing."

"How come?"

"Well…" Arthur tilted his head, trying to find a way to explain his answer. "There are a lot of reasons why the characters are important. They're what connects the reader with the story and it's through them that we experience the events of the story."

"True, but what are _your_ reasons?" He tilted his head once more in thought.

"Because I believe that it takes two to make a story. It's the writer who decides the world, but it's the characters who decide the story. You could have the most brilliant world in all of time, but it would all go to waste if you don't have the right characters for it. Sure you could try, but the readers would catch what's off with the character if you have them go against what you've been characterizing them as. In the end, it's the characters that make the story."

"That's…" Alfred smiled again, but this time it was more genuine. "I believe in that as well."

Neither of them spoke after that, but neither of them returned to reading. It was one of those times when you were locked in time, nowhere to go and nothing to do to break the invisible cage that bound you in place. Finally, Alfred spoke.

"I wish we were in a story," he said finally. Arthur frowned.

"Now why would you want that? While stories are a nice escape, this is reali-"

"I'm getting engaged."

Arthur froze. He looked down on the ground, unsure of how to reply. "That's… that's great," he forced out. He felt as if something had broken inside of him. "When… when will you get engaged?"

"On my birthday." Alfred didn't move at all. "It's the tradition, to be engaged by your sixteenth birthday."

"I see. Do you know who you will be betrothed to?"

"My parents finally found on someone they deemed acceptable. They ended up picking the daughter of a nearby duchess. I've met her before," he said distractedly. "She's really nice, smart too I suppose..."

"I see…" Arthur gulped. The words he wanted to say seemed to be caught in his throat. "That's goo… I'm prou… It's good that-"

"I don't want to be engaged."

Their eyes met, dark sky blue with bright emerald green. Although the words hadn't been said, Arthur knew what Alfred wanted to say. Despite the mood, Arthur blushed. "I…I-"

"Here." Alfred reached into his vest pocket. "I actually have to do something today, but I had enough time to come here. It's almost time for me to go back though, but before I leave, I'd like you to have this."

Arthur watched as Alfred reached for his hand and placed something on his palm, curling Arthur's fingers immediately afterwards to hide the item from view. The object felt cold yet slightly warm and had a metallic feel to it. Arthur turned towards Alfred. "I can't accept this," he automatically said. "I need to pay you back." Alfred smiled again.

"Then make a story for me." He stood up. "We read the tales that others had written before all the time, but I want to see what you can come up with."

Arthur nodded his head. "If that's what you want, then all right." Alfred beamed.

"That's a deal then! Make sure to create a good setting with a good plot, okay? Oh, and you can't forget the characters. They're what make the story, right?" He suddenly became serious. "Most importantly though…"

"Make sure they have a happy ending, all right?"

Arthur nodded his head again. "All right. I'll start thinking something up."

"Okay… I'll be seeing you then." Alfred started to walk away. A sudden thought crossed into Arthur's mind.

"Wait!" Alfred looked back. "When do you want the story to be ready?"

The other grinned. "As soon as possible of course! Have it ready the next time we meet, okay Arthur?"

As Alfred walked away, Arthur noticed that his hand was still clenched over the present Alfred had given him. He unfurled his fingers. Lying on the palm of his hand was a brooch made of three roses with golden stems. From left to right, the roses were a deep pink, red, and blue respectively.

_Alfred…_ Arthur pocketed the little brooch. The apple Alfred had been eating was left where he had been, although only the core was left. It was after dusk came that Arthur realized something.

He had called him Arthur.

''''''

Alfred didn't come next week. Nor did he come the week after that nor the week after that. Arthur knew he wouldn't come, yet every week he waited for him without fail.

Finally, Alfred's birthday came.

It was a warm summer day. Arthur sat under the tree by himself, a basket at his side and a book at the other. He sat there, hugging his knees to his chest as he watched the town from a distance, an apple on one hand as he ate.

_It's too busy, _Arthur thought. From here, Arthur could see the balloons and streamers strung across the town in celebration. Joyous screams could be heard from where he was, but he couldn't find the heart to join them. To Arthur, the celebration only meant an end. _Far too busy for my liking._

He bit into the apple. _How nice to see the people so cheery, _he thought idly. _Of course, this is merely a formality and an excuse to party but nevertheless, this must be a jubilant occasion for them._

Arthur released his legs to lean back on the tree. _I wonder what he must be feeling…._ He thought as his free hand traveled to the brooch on his collar. _No doubt he must be ecstatic…_ Such a blatant lie, but Arthur didn't want to voice out the truth.

He turned towards the town. _Should I go down there? I should at least take part in the celebrations… Would I get to see him? _He shook his head. That was a luxury he didn't have.

He sat there, the distant sounds of celebration surrounding him. The celebrations would last until noon, which was the time of the betrothal, and then the celebrations would continue in the form of a grand party. Judging by the sun in the sky, it seemed that noon was coming closer. _It's almost time..._

Arthur clutched the brooch harder. _Alfred, I wish I could reply to your message…then I could've told you that you were wrong on the third one…._

His heart twisted. _Why am I here?_ He didn't dare answer the question himself, afraid of confirming what he already knew. _I still haven't come up of a story yet, so even if he came, I would have let him down… _The emptiness in him grew as he finished his apple. _Alfred…_

His eyes turned towards the book at his side. It was the book with the story of the mermaid on it. _It ended bittersweetly, didn't it? But Alfred likes happy endings… _A memory played into his mind. _'I wish we were in a story', he had said… _Something in Arthur ignited.

He stood up. _I don't know who the writer of this story is, but there is something I do know: I have the story you wanted now, but I have to meet you in person for you to hear it. _Arthur started to run down the hill. He had to hurry, or he wouldn't make it in time before noon. He wondered if Alfred would mind that it didn't have an ending, but then again…

It was Arthur who decided if the story had a happy ending or not.

'''''''

_I never regretted meeting you _

_Not once did I ever regret._

_If I could have a wish,_

_Then I'd wish…_

_To spend my life with you._


End file.
